Plastic Made Dreams
by Yr Alban
Summary: Rory wonders why the Doctor cares.
1. C'mon, Lie to Me

**Copyright infringement not intended.  
>AN: I'm sure it's all common knowledge that Amy gets kidnapped either at the end of episode six or the beginning of episode seven. This is a little occurence in the TARDIS, after the craziness has died down. **

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><p>Plastic Made Dreams<br>_C'mon, Lie To Me_

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><p><em>Nobody wins when everyone's losing.<em>

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><p>He feels dirty.<p>

Looking at Rory (_honest, funny, gorgeous, amazing Rory_) and Rory looking at him (_unworthy, undeserving, too old, too... something_) in his all-knowing way that makes the Doctor's skin crawl and makes him feel incredibly _dirty_.

"Doctor," the sandy haired man drawls, stepping toward him. He thinks fleeting of running, leaving both the man and the truth behind. But he doesn't - he can't run and do you know how _badly_ that scares him?

That this man (_and the woman that loves him_) has a strong enough hold on him to stop him from running? It's terrifying!

"Rory," he responds, proud at the way his voice doesn't shake or break despite the fear that riccochets off of every nerve in his body. "Ror-ster. Rory, my man. My amigo. My -"

"No, don't. Don't do that," Rory shakes his head, a slightly sickened expression on his face. The words bring back sharp memories of harder times and easier times, where there was no confusions and no cracks or confusing pregnancies to worry about. "Just.. Don't."

A wistful grin tugs at the corners of his mouth before it is torn viciously, cruelly, off by the man's next words.

"Why do you care so much?"

There they are; the words that he is trying to run from, the words that increase his feeling of dirtiness tenfold. He blinks in what he hopes is a nonchalant, smug and lazy fashion but knows it is likely the exact opposite. Already he can feel his eye twitching and the chilling horror creeping upon him, prepared to pounce when his guard is down.

"Care?" He snorts and leans against the railing - which is not at the bottom of the stairs, like he thinks it to be. He topples over, meeting the unyielding floor with a crash.

Of course, Rory bursts into ungentlemanly, honking laughter, bending at the waist from the force of the amusement.

"Thank you, Rory," he mutters under his breath, picking himself and his wounded pride up and plunking down on the just as cold step. "And I do _not_ care - not anymore than you do, at least." His voice rises over Rory's raucous laughter, his agitation leaking through.

He doesn't mind the agitation - as long as it is not the fear, the concern, the l-

No. He will not even think it.

"O-oh, puh-_leeze_," Rory, still chuckling softly, brushes off. "You practically dumped me at Leadworth back there. You've got to - _no_."

His eyes are wide, now, with realization and the beginnings of anger. He knows, the Doctor thinks. He knows and he'll ruin _everything_.

"Rory." He says warningly, giving that green-eyed devil an imploring look. He needs to know, he needs to understand that he doesn't want to feel this way. He really, really does not want to.

It's not fun anymore.

It hurts too much, brings back too many memories of a golden haired girl that loved him and he loved her and that was enough _except it never is_.

"No, no!" He's not laughing anymore. Rory, that is. His voice is thick and rough with that growing anger the Doctor sees in his eyes. "No, you don't, you can't. You're you and she's her and I'm _me_."

Well, now that _that_ is sorted out.

"Rory, you know that it's not like that." He reminds him, trying to be patient, trying not to scream _hell yes, it is_. He can't ruin someone else's life because of what he wants. Not again. "We're not.. No, definitely not anything like.. _that_."

_Oho. Lie, much?_

He can see Rory relax, slightly, and the anger fade from his hard green eyes. "You're sure?" Rory asks, but he's already bought it, he's sold and the Doctor doesn't actually have to answer but he does.

"Positive. Now, let's go rescue Amelia Pond!"

Rory grins and he grins back, feeling everything slide back into it's proper place. It's saddening and it breaks his hearts (_again_) but he carries on. He flicks switches and pulls levers and continues to be sensationally mad.

Because he's positive that is what is supposed to happen.

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><p><em>And, I, baby,<br>I'm sorry to see  
>Maybe we're not meant to be.<em>

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><p><strong>Yeah? Good or shitty?<br>Review, m'loves, and tell me what you thinksies!  
>Also, TAP = next time trailer. Love it.<br>Anyways, see yaa soon!  
>Yr Alban.<strong>


	2. Author's Note: READ ME!

**Big, big news!**

**For all of us Canadians or Americans or Brits stranded in North America and saying, **_**what the hell is Memorial Day, again?**_

**There is help. There is a solution. Doctor Who always finds a way.**

**So, on Sunday or late Saturday, go to this site and search up **_**Doctor Who**_**. Find the newest episode. Enjoy.**

**(just take away the commas.)**

**http, : , / , / , w, w, w, watch series , dot , eu.**

**If that doesn't work, I'll pm the reviewers of this fic and all my other DW fics the link and put it up in my profile. The same rule applies for A Good Man Goes to War.**

**Heres to wondering why Space and BBCA can't air TAP on Sunday or Monday and AGMGTW on 4 June.**

_**Yr Alban**_**.**


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